


l’amour (love) in snow

by thunderylee



Category: KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-05
Updated: 2011-02-05
Packaged: 2019-01-28 12:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12606368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Ueda helps Nakamaru study for his French test.





	l’amour (love) in snow

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. mouseover the french dialogue for translation.

“I’m starting to think you wouldn’t pass a single class without me,” Ueda says from his knees. “Or do you play dumb on purpose?”

Nakamaru has the decency to look sheepish as his thighs spread to accommodate the man between them. “It’s helpful to study with another person-”

“ _En Francais_ ,” Ueda chides, pausing with his hands on Nakamaru’s belt. “You will speak in French, or I will stop.”

Ueda would bet money that Nakamaru only chose French as his foreign language requirement for this very reason. Luckily, he doesn’t mind offering his special brand of tutoring services for this one.

He likes to watch Nakamaru squirm.

The oldest is doing it right now, wavering under Ueda’s hard stare as he presumably tries to focus on anything _other_ than fingers lingering on his fly. If nothing else, Nakamaru has built up his willpower from these study sessions along with his European vocabulary.

He mumbles something that could pass as “touchez-moi” and Ueda chuckles into the denim of his thigh.

“More advanced than that, please,” he says. “I doubt the command form will be on your test.”

“It’s not an oral test,” Nakamaru points out, in Japanese, and Ueda can swear he sees a hint of defiance in the eyes that look down at him.

Ueda smirks. “Fine, then.  Je voudrais fumer ton cigare.”

“Eh?” Nakamaru replies, looking confused. “You want to smoke my wha- _oh_.”

He blushes a furious shade of red, despite it being kind of obvious with the way Ueda’s unfastening his belt. Leather slips through the buckle and the waist of Nakamaru’s jeans gap out from the force of his growing bulge. Ueda licks his lips habitually and Nakamaru’s eyes turn dark.

“J’adore d’avaler la fumée,” Ueda goes on, and he knows Nakamaru understands _that_ because of the way he chokes on his next breath.

“Tu me rends fou,” he manages to get out, and his pronunciation isn’t that bad, if a bit high-pitched.

Ueda rests his palm flat on the bump in Nakamaru’s jeans and pushes up. He watches Nakamaru bite his lip, muffling a noise that Ueda would have liked to hear with no restrictions.

“Dis-moi,” Ueda breathes as he pops open the button and drags the zipper down. “Dis-moi ce que tu veux.”

Nakamaru moans in response, outright, and Ueda shivers a little at the way his body reacts to it. Nakamaru’s boxer-clad erection practically jumps out of the open fly, Ueda’s fingers drawn to the damp spot where the tip of Nakamaru’s cock is leaking precome.

“Oh, god,” Nakamaru gasps. In English.

Ueda narrows his eyes. “Don’t speak English to me. I’m not Akanishi.”

“Désolé.” Nakamaru shifts, his hands in fists on his thighs. Ueda wonders if the other man is trying to stop himself from grabbing something, particularly his hair. “Tatsuya, fais-moi grimper au rideau.”

The idiom impresses Ueda, who leans up and kisses the hard mass straining the material of Nakamaru’s boxers. Nakamaru starts to fall apart from that alone, only continuing to sit up due to his place on the couch – Ueda’s couch.

Ueda leaves his hands where they are and mouths at the fabric until he finds the flap. That beautiful noise sounds from Nakamaru again when Ueda makes contact with his bare skin, his cock finding the gap and subsequently Ueda’s mouth like it’s magnetically attracted to it.

“Regarde-moi,” Ueda hisses as he sucks the tip past his lips.

Nakamaru’s eyes slit open, heat gazing down at the other as his mouth falls open to replenish his lungs. Ueda watches his face as he tongues the head, his hands finding Nakamaru’s and easing the clenched fists with light strokes of his fingers. Nakamaru seems to relax, sinking further into the leather, and apparently he feels comfortable enough to roll his hips a bit.

Calmly Ueda slides his palms up Nakamaru’s thighs until he reaches skin, pointedly holding him down. Nakamaru chuckles, the bastard, and Ueda retaliates by taking in as much as he can. The amusement dies in Nakamaru’s throat, replaced by a low, guttural noise that has Ueda straining the front of his own pants.

He gets down to business, struggling to keep his own eyes open and locked with Nakamaru’s unfocused ones as he bobs up and down on his cock. It gets even harder in his mouth, the bitter taste of precome hitting his taste buds and makes him want more.

“Ah,” Nakamaru voices, and Ueda snaps to attention. “Please- I mean, s’il vous plaît… _Tatsuya_ , fuck. I can’t remember negative commands right now. _Don’t stop_.”

Ueda lets it go, because he really doesn’t want to stop and he doubts he would be able to remember basic Japanese with those lips around his cock. Just thinking about it has him thrusting at nothing, groaning in frustration, which has Nakamaru trembling before him.

His bangs fall into his face and he considers briefly letting go of one of Nakamaru’s hips to push them back, but Nakamaru gets there first. His fingers are soft and shaking on Ueda’s forehead, and Ueda can feel how much he’s holding back, how badly he wants to come.

Now Ueda wants it, too. He hollows his cheeks and sucks Nakamaru in and out, flicking his tongue along the underside and particularly the head. Nakamaru’s moaning with every breath, fingers tightening in Ueda’s hair and he can’t even get out the (Japanese) words “I’m coming” before he _is_.

Ueda swallows and lets the softening cock fall from his lips, but he’s far from done. Nakamaru made it until the very last second before closing his eyes, and they still remain shut even as the couch dips with Ueda’s weight next to him.

“Yuichi,” he whispers into his ear, smirking at the way Nakamaru shivers from the oversensitivity. “Tu as un bon goût.”

It’s cute when Nakamaru blushes, but then Ueda feels a tug on his shirt and he realizes that it has nothing to do with his compliment.

“Tatsuya,” Nakamaru says clearly, turning his head to speak into Ueda’s neck. “Veux-tu m’enculer?”

Ueda’s first instinct is to question Nakamaru’s study habits, because he’s pretty sure that word isn’t on any university vocabulary list, but he’s too busy answering him. Nonverbally, because every language he’s ever known has been pushed aside in favor of his instincts, which have him pinning Nakamaru down onto the couch in an instant.

He couldn’t speak even if he wanted to, because Nakamaru’s lips find his and they’re kissing, desperately like the world is going to end if they stop. Nakamaru’s tongue coils around his and Ueda’s mind spins a little, sufficiently distracting him from the matter at hand. Or rather, the matter that’s being pushed into his hand in tube form.

They haven’t gone this far before.

“Yuichi,” Ueda starts, pausing in his efforts.

“Ne parle pas,” Nakamaru interrupts, sliding his arms around Ueda’s neck and pulling him closer.

Ueda smiles into their kiss. “You remembered it.”

Nakamaru’s test is the last thing from Ueda’s mind right now, fading farther into the distance as he finds himself sliding Nakamaru’s pants down his legs and settling between them. Nakamaru pulls at the back collar of Ueda’s shirt and Ueda lets him remove it completely, breaking apart long enough to disrobe Nakamaru as well.

Skin to skin, they slide together as Ueda’s fingers slide into Nakamaru. He doesn’t even remember lubing them, but he’s not focusing on much else other than Nakamaru’s tongue in his mouth and the hard, hot body beneath his.

A faint whimper sounds from the back of Nakamaru’s throat and Ueda almost pulls back, but then Nakamaru is tightening his embrace and pushing against the invasive touch. He takes Ueda’s fingers farther inside himself and gasps when they brush somewhere that feels good, which has Ueda actively seeking it out until Nakamaru is shuddering underneath him.

“ _Tatsuya_ ,” Nakamaru moans, and Ueda has to pause for a second to gather himself.

He looks down at Nakamaru, into his eyes that are hooded and glazed over, and isn’t too sure of what he sees contained within them. “Pourquoi?”

Nakamaru looks scared, determined, and so full of _feeling_ that he could explode from the pressure.

“Parce que…” he starts, licking his lips to stall. “Parce que je t’aime.”

Ueda stops breathing. “Say it in Japanese.”

“I love you,” Nakamaru whispers, his eyes focusing when Ueda doesn’t move. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why or when. Maybe it was the French. With you, I think, it would be okay. You know. To be like that. Like this. More than once. A lot. Um. Tatsuya?”

“Tais-toi,” Ueda hisses, then captures Nakamaru’s mouth again. His fingers come back to life, going even faster than before, and Nakamaru’s high-pitched noises die on his tongue. Nakamaru embraces Ueda’s neck tighter and lifts up his knees, accepting Ueda between them and rolling his hips faster at Ueda’s cock hard against his inner thigh.

“Tatsuya,” Nakamaru says again, and this time it’s a small, pitiful sound that resounds between Ueda’s ears as he reaches down into his pants pocket for a condom.

In no time he’s sheathed, lubed, and positioned between Nakamaru’s legs. His hand rests on Nakamaru’s thigh, absently rubbing the straining muscle as he admires the man whom he’s about to be inside.

“Do I have to ask for it in French, too?” Nakamaru asks, a bit facetiously, and Ueda snaps out of whatever trance he’d been in. “I know a few different ways to say it. Baise-moi, nique-moi-”

“I love you, too,” Ueda says firmly, and Nakamaru’s amusement ceases.

He pulls Ueda back into his mouth. “Then there’s nothing else to say.”

Ueda slips inside him without trying, his body taking over with guidance from Nakamaru’s. They fit together naturally, Ueda’s hands sliding all over Nakamaru’s torso as he tries to touch as much of him as he can, inside and out. He has to break their kiss to breathe, pressing his forehead into Nakamaru’s chest while Nakamaru threads gentle fingers through his hair like Ueda is the one who needs comfort here.

“Yuu…” Ueda gets out, his voice thwarted by his actions. “You feel so good.”

“ _Grave_ ,” Nakamaru breathes, and Ueda squints through his bangs to see a smirk on the older man’s face.

“Enough with the damn French,” Ueda hisses, but he thrusts harder anyway.

Then Nakamaru can only moan. It’s like a song, with vocals all over his range and the rhythm composed by Ueda. It makes Ueda want to hold off finishing forever just so the noises won’t ever end, flowing in a melody only for him that he can control. Running a thumb over one of Nakamaru’s nipples brings out a quick falsetto while grabbing him by the hips to fuck him deeper ignites a lower register, and soon Ueda’s lost to the acapella serenade and the feeling that consumes him.

“Tatsuya,” Nakamaru gasps a good while later, his fingers tightening in Ueda’s hair. “Touch me.”

It’s hotter in their native language than it could ever be in French; Ueda rushes to comply, bringing his hand around Nakamaru’s waist until it hits hard flesh. Nakamaru sucks in his air and his body tightens around Ueda, pulling a groan from Ueda’s lungs that adds some bass to their song.

Nakamaru gets louder, his wails echoing in Ueda’s head, and Ueda thinks he’ll be able to recall it perfectly for years. It makes him thrust faster, pushing through the muscles that constrict with each tug of Nakamaru’s cock, his fingers coiled around the shaft with his thumb on the head.

Ueda’s been holding back for a long time, but he keeps up his rhythm even as he starts to give in, rocking into Nakamaru in time with his strokes through his own shaking. He breathes harshly into Nakamaru’s chest and rises with the arch of Nakamaru’s back, recognizing the sharp push up into his hand and the even sharper cry tearing from the older man’s lungs.

It’s just enough of a warning to brace himself, unable to do much else as Nakamaru clamps down around him and forces him to snap his own hips to break through. A long groan spills from his lips as he lets go, thrusting until his world explodes and all he knows is how it feels, specifically with Nakamaru.

The first thing he hears when he comes down from his orgasmic high is Nakamaru’s heartbeat, fast and uneven and in complete contrast to his slow, deep breathing.

Then Ueda leans up to kiss him, bringing a hand to his face to cup his jaw, and Nakamaru calms down completely.

“J’ai passé?” Nakamaru asks with a chuckle. “Monsieur Ueda.”

“Well, your pronunciation is awful,” Ueda tells him honestly. “You’re not stressing the right syllables, and half of the things you said wouldn’t be on any test ever. Except maybe in a French brothel.”

Nakamaru pokes him in the side. “I told you, it’s not an oral test. And the point is that the grammar is correct.”

“I would give you an oral test,” Ueda mutters, and it’s not until Nakamaru laughs that he realizes the entendre.

However, now he can just shut him up with a kiss. Nakamaru’s tongue does wicked things to his, leading Ueda to believe that even if he did try to administer a proper exam, Nakamaru would find a way to weasel an A out of him. There’s a reason he keeps helping him study, after all.

Besides, anybody’s French is better than Koki’s.


End file.
